


Future Sight

by JDLouis



Series: Requests / One-Shots [3]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Past Character Death, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:48:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27910285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JDLouis/pseuds/JDLouis
Summary: Being bound by soul with your trainer and best friend is a feeling unlike any other.Losing your soulbound partner is a loss beyond comprehension, a loss that this Gardevoir must now endure.Where once happiness and laughter filled the halls of their home, it is now only met with silence and sadness, dust and echoes of times long passed.Such grief is almost too much to bear for most Gardevoir, but perhaps she will be different.
Series: Requests / One-Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2032732
Kudos: 3





	Future Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: Suicidal Ideation, Past Character Death.
> 
> Good evening and I hope my story that I am sharing with you today finds you well. This is a request I am fulfilling and as such, is only one chapter. Still I hope you find it an enjoyable read, and as always, feel free to leave your comments!

The gift of future sight is an oxymoron.

To see what is to come and to be powerless to stop it is to bring upon oneself anguish immeasurable. Part of me feels as if this is more of a curse than anything else, but to neglect the good it has done for us would be immature. My abilities have served us well for many years, but there comes a time when even the strongest of powers must yield to the grand cosmic balance.

_To live is to die._

It was a day that I had dreaded for more than 60 years. No matter how strong I became or how elegant my movements were, there was no power that I could wield that would be able to turn back the hands of time. During the final years of his life, my trainer suffered greatly, and it was through my own stubbornness that his anguish was prolonged. I had convinced myself that if I searched hard enough, trained hard enough, perhaps even fought hard enough, that I would be able to undo the sickness that was to claim his life.

But in every possible future, following every possible route, exhausting every possible strategic option, all roads converged into just one. I tried my hardest to split the road in twain, to carve a new path, and even try and backtrack down the road of life, but it was all for naught. The results were the same. Every possible future, of every possible choice, of every possible movement, all led to that same bed, in that same hotel, in that same moment where the final sparks of his life were snuffed out by the sounds of the ECG monitor flatlining.

Powerless to stop it, I tried to prepare myself. Steel my soul and temper my mind for what was to inevitably come. Days upon days were spent trying to be more independent, to try and take my mind away from what was happening; to try and remind myself everything was going to be okay.

In that, as in all endeavors, I failed.

A vision seen hundreds of times does not compare to what you see unravel before you. His last words, his last smile, his dying breath. It was too much. Like ghosts of memories innumerable, I felt all our memories both good and bad howl back into my mind as the wind of his last breath parted ways with his lips. I could not stop the tears, and I pleaded out to any powers that could hear me to let me spend one last moment with he who had given me so much.

My pathetic cries for pity cast into the endless void of the universe were not heard, and as in every vision, of every possible future, he died right there with his hand in mine. I felt his blood go cold and his mind go silent, like I had been sliced in twain and one half was cast into the abyss never to be seen again. For the first time in my entire life I felt as if I was but a soulless husk, destined for nothing more but to walk the world in solitary anguish.

I don’t remember much of my time in that room. I dissociated so hard that the few days afterwards were all a blur. Apparently I had refused to leave his side and had to be sedated after security had a hard time trying to subdue me. My wails of sadness had caused great pain to patients in nearby rooms who were suffering from similar illnesses. Even still, the kind doctors of that place held no contempt for me, and assured me that such a reaction is not uncommon for my kind. He said it almost like a robot who had seen such sights so many times before that it was almost routine. While the thought that I am not the only one suffering gave a small spark of hope, it was like putting a bandage on the eviscerated limb that was my mind.

And so now I lay here, in the bed we shared countless nights, in the room we laughed countless hours, in the home we spent countless years. Cool fall winds blew into the room from the cracked window the bed lay next to. All the lights were off and the sky outside was kissed in a warm orange hue as the sun began to set over the horizon. Like the call of my trainer, I felt myself drawn towards the sound of the sea that sat not far from our home. Strings on a puppet, I felt myself pulled from the bed and out of the home, floating above the short wooden walkway that led on to the beach. 

Salt sea air whisked it’s way between the strands of my hair, making my roots stand on their ends as the sound of small waves lapping against the beach sand kindly greeted my ears. Once over by the water, like the weight a conkeldurr’s pillar heaved into my chest, I collapsed forward onto the ground. I dug my hands into the moist sand clenched my fists in a fit of anger and sadness, my arms shaking and my will wavering. Trying desperately to hold back the tides of my fears, I gritted my teeth as I felt tears part ways with my eyes and drip down my cheek and into the sand. My pathetic sobs were drowned out by the tide’s movement, as if to mock my pain.

I cried until I had no more tears left. However long it was, I know not, but the sun had long since set when I looked up from the wet sand that was thoroughly dug about by my own hands. My chest continued to shake as each breath was a fight against the muscles in my body that wanted to give up and waste away.

And how enticing it was in that moment, to waste away and fade into obscurity. Like a siren’s song, the waves of the ocean seemed to beckon me hence into their cold embrace. Perhaps I would have allowed myself to drown then and there if those last words of his didn’t echo within my conscious, pulling me back from the edge.

_Do not be sad for my passing. I have lived long and well, but you can live longer and better still. I have lived my life without regret and that alone is more than most can say. I already know you’re suffering greatly, for you have seen this end. Know this, my dearest Gerdevoir, you have been a boon and blessing to me my whole life, and it is you who gave me everything in this world I could have wanted. Cry not tears of sadness for my passing, cry tears of joy for the experiences._

Those last words of his were more comforting than any queen sized bed could ever be. How foolish I must seem, crying and grieving in such a capacity that I am inconsolable for days at a time. Were he here right now I have no doubt he would be laughing at how preposterously silly I looked. He would say just the right thing in just the right tone to turn my mood around almost instantly. He would lift me up by my arms and twirl me around in the air until I quit my pouting and let out my own little giggles of joy.

If only he were here now.

Like a beacon, a vision came to me at that moment. A flash of a simple scene: the gravestone of my now deceased trainer, my best friend. That was it. Not a scene, not some remote vision, a simple glimpse, like a picture taken out of time. For me it was more than enough, and I hurriedly scrambled off the sand, floating steadily down the wood walkway and back towards the house. Whether or not it was my own mind playing tricks of me I did not know, nor did I care. If there was even a shred of hope that maybe I could see my best friend once more, there wasn’t anything I wouldn't give for it.

With my mind fixated on the end goal of reaching his tombstone, the entirety of my travel to the cemetery in which he laid was a blur. I remembered nothing of my trip except for my great effort to make haste to his resting spot. At the entrance to the cemetery there I stood, the wrought iron fence open and the entirety of the area lit dimly by the moonlight. A lone figure stood at the side of the cemetery opposite of my friend, but I paid it no heed as I walked over to the gravestone and looked upon it.

For a long while I stared at the stone slab, not moving or making a sound, expecting something to happen. Floating ever so slightly above the grass, I waited anxiously, my hollow body eager for something to fill the void that had since consumed it. Eventually, the raw silence became almost deafening, sending me back into a spiraling craze of sadness once again where I wept quietly to myself. It seemed now no matter what I did I was destined to live a life of solitary misery.

“Are... you okay?” I heard a voice call from the shadows. Hesitantly, I turned my head upwards to see the image of the figure that had been in the graveyard earlier. A Gallade who seemed curious of the troubles in my life.

“He’s gone...” I barely managed to weep between ragged breaths. My psychic energies keeping me afloat slowly faded and I sat myself down upon the dew covered grass, burying my face into my knees, “He’s gone!”

“I...uh...” The Gallade stammered, taken aback by this sudden show of immense sadness, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

I shook my head, for while I appreciated his kind gesture, there truly was no way he could help unless he managed to harness the power to bring those who have passed back to life.

“Listen...” He began, drawing in a deep sigh, “I get it. I’ve gone through what you’re going through right now. Still am...”

I offered no response, only my continued weeping that echoed within the confines of that small graveyard. I heard his footsteps slowly approach, tiptoeing oh so carefully as if he was trying not to startle a sleeping pokémon. His movements stopped just a few feet away from me, where he himself sat down on the grass.

“It doesn’t get easier.” He muttered, the confidence in his voice wavering. Curious, and caught off guard, I managed to pry my head from my legs and look next to me, finding the visage of a broken, saddened Gallade who gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.

“I wish I could tell you it gets easier... but it doesn't.” His voice squeaked, paying no heed to the tears that dripped onto his torso and his arms, “There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss my trainer with all my heart as well.”

We stared at each other, his sorrowful gaze coated by misty ruby eyes that spoke the same language as mine: sorrow. Like a scene from an old movie, we sat there under the moonlight, staring at each other like we weren’t some complete strangers but moments ago. Mustering the courage to break the tension, I shifted myself on the ground, turning myself towards him.

“How long ago?” I finally asked.

“Almost two years. I must seem pathetic...” He pouted, averting his gaze.

“Not at all. If anything it shows how close you two were.”

Biting his lips, he blinked rapidly to clear more tears from his eyes, “Two whole years and it never gets any easier. I wish I could be strong for him, I do. It’s just so hard...”

“I know.” I responded, still holding on to my knees that were now growing cold from exposure.

“Surely _you_ think me a fool for approaching you like this as well.”

“Not one bit. I’m the one who's the fool here for making a scene...”

“Don't be ridiculous.” He stated, turning back towards me, “You have every right to be upset.”

“Every right that you do.”

Unsure of how to respond he shook his head before looking back towards me, “But it’s been two years! Certainly yours hasn’t been as long!”

“Not but two weeks.”

“See! I’m just some big, useless crybaby...”

“Sorrow knows no time limit, friend.” I began, standing up and sitting right in front of him as he still looked away from me in shame. Softly, I reached out my hand, and gently plucked a tear clinging to the corner of his eye. As our skin briefly touched, a shock was sent through my whole body, before a whole rapid fire sequence of images began flashing in my head almost too fast for me to keep up. Images of us on the beach, of us in some forest, of us in some large city. Like a portfolio of memories to be made, the images went as quickly as they came, leaving me shocked for several long moments.

When my senses came to, my vision was met with the intense glare of his warm red eyes staring closely at me, only inches away from my face.

“Are you okay!?” I heard him yell.

“Y-yes. I’m fine, thank you.” I responded, snapping out of whatever trance had me enraptured.

“You seemed... frozen. In a trance. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am, I promise.” He grabbed a hold of my hand and heaved me back on to my feet, where I almost fell over again out of pure dizziness and disorientation.

“Careful now, don’t move too much.” He said, holding me by the shoulder.

“Th-thanks. Sorry it’s... it’s been a rough couple of weeks.”

“I understand. I’m sorry to have made it worse.” He apologized, letting me go once he was confident enough that I could stand on my own, “I’ll be going now. Sorry to have put you through that.”

With no more words, he began walking fast towards the cemetery entrance. All at once the images began slowly filling my vision once again, beckoning me to act on a whim and call out to this nice, tender soul that shared this moment of sorrow with me.

“Hey, wait!” I called out, just as he reached the entrance. He froze in his spot, and slowly turned to face me as I floated and weaved between all the other gravestones towards him.

“W-what is it?” He asked nervously.

“I uh...” I began, my brain in a buzz, unable to think of anything, “I uh... know this beach. It’s a nice spot.”

While his exterior was puzzled and confused, in that moment I saw his soul light on fire, as if he had seen something in me in that moment that filled a long empty void within himself.

“I would love to see it.” He muttered immediately, gaze fixated upon me.

“Follow me then.” I responded, bringing one of his hands in mine, “I know the way.”

And so into the night we ran. Towards the beach, towards a better tomorrow, and towards all those memories that have yet been made.

The gift of future sight is an oxymoron, but only if you don’t know where to look.


End file.
